I just worked up a sweat watering my plants. The air temperature outside is reputed to be about 75 degrees Fahrenheit (according to a weather website in Abbotsford, BC, just a few miles away), but on the sunny side of my deck, the sun is full on, and the heat bounces off the south wall of the house, plus we're down in a sheltered area that doesn't get much wind. And the air isn't moving today.
And I was wearing too-warm clothes. That's because those were the clothes I wanted to change out of. I am incapable of watering my plants with the hose without also getting myself rather dampish, so I did not want to wear the clothes I'm going to wear all day. So I had on corduroy pants and a long-sleeved corduroy shirt. Sure enough, the first thing I did after turning on the water was spray my own foot with a big gush of water. Not intentionally, but just because that's the kind of person I am. And the hems of my pant legs got wet.
While I was standing over the plants with the hose, visible and profuse drops of sweat ran from my hair and face.
Why, you may ask, did I not wait until a cooler time of day to water? Good question. I'm glad you asked that. It is because some of my flower-loving aunts will be visiting my parents in an hour or two. They will certainly at least glance out the window at my plants, and one or more may even be interested in a tour of my little floral kingdom. I did not want to say, And here are my croaking, gasping, collapsing, sorry-looking flowers and herbs. Some of my plants tell me when they are thirsty by keeling over, and that's how they were.
Of course you might also ask, why did you not get busy earlier in the morning and get then? To which I reply, Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha. Get up early, and immediately start bustling around industriously? That just doesn't happen.
I gotta be me.
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